Passo Pordoi
Passo Sella
Passo della Mendola
Passo Tonale
Passo Gavia
I had most everything packed the night before to facilitate an early departure this morning, We had a lot of ground to cover, and our only other experience with a multi-country “long ride” was an unmitigated disaster.
We were kickstands up at 7:30. We did a quick last loop of Arabba before heading up the tornanti of Pordoi to begin what was, arguably, the most anticipated day of the trip. After all, this was the day that would include a ride up the most famous of Alpine passes, Passo dello Stelvio, or Stilfser Joch. When you tell other riders back in the states that you’re heading to the Alps, the first question is almost always “will you be doing Stelvio?” Much like The Dragon, it has an almost mythic quality. We certainly made sure to include it in every variation of our trip back in the planning stages.
Early morning rounds in Arabba
The main traffic circle in the center of Arabba, and the Ristoranta Al Table
I love Italy!
We had a long way to go today before that adventure. First up was a quick up-and-over on Pordoi and Sella, which went too quickly. It was fitting that we were riding both these passes on our way out of the Dolomites, since they served as our fantastic introduction to pass riding 4 days ago (has it really only been 4 days?). Every turn that brought us closer to our destination this morning was bittersweet – it would be the last time we’d ride that hairpin for who-knows how long.
Heading through St. Ulrich on our way to the Autostrada, we ran into road construction that we didn’t notice signs for. One minute we were cooking along, the next minute we were dead-ended with cranes and heavy equipment blocking the road. We doubled back and followed signs for the diversion. This-way, that-way, and eventually we were back on the road out of St. Ulrich – along with every bus and truck in the region. Took us forever to break free.
Eventually we found ourselves on an interesting curvy road that somewhat followed the Autostrada south, which we stayed on for 10 or 15kms or so. Switzerland beckoned (we had rooms reserved in Andermatt) so we ditched that for the Autostrada.
One last rant about European signage: I knew not to expect anything so simple as N or S, but as we rode towards the toll plaza there were plenty of signs for “Modena” and “Innsbruck”. No problem, that’s easy. After the toll plaza, when the ramp splits for both directions, no longer were there signs for Modena or Innsbruck. Now it was (I think) Trentino or Bressanone. No fair! You can’t keep changing the rules! Trentino sounded good so that’s where we went.
I have to mention another issue we had with the toll plaza. I was in the lead (since I had the Zumo), I pushed the button at the plaza and got my ticket. I pulled ahead and waited for Jim. And waited. Seems he could not get the machine to issue him a ticket. No matter how many times he pushed the button, no dice. There was a truck behind him so he couldn’t back up and try another lane. In the states not having a toll ticket would mean you pay the highest toll, so we figured we should just go ahead and take our chances.
When we exited at Bolzano, my toll was 0.60Euro. Fair enough. Jim rode through behind me, explained his no-ticket situation to the attendant, and got hit with a 60Euro ticket. Not 0.60, 60. Ouch! He explained that we were together, so the attendant eventually collected 0.60 from him, deducting that from the 60 that owed. The attendant took all of Jim’s info from his license, and filled out a very long ticket. Took perhaps 15 minutes to get through the toll plaza. How exactly they expect to collect from Jim I have no idea.
We skirted the edge of Bolzano (and saw a cool castle up on the hill) before following signs to Passo della Mendola, or Mendelpass. This had a very different feel to it than the Dolomite passes. For the most part you were on the side of the steep mountain, with a rock wall going straight up on one side, and big views of the valleys on the other.
Going up Mendelpass
Wish it wasn't so hazy, you could see for miles up there
Reminded me of Hawk's Nest back in NJ
I bet this old man could kick my butt
There was a terrific shop at the top of Mendelpass. I was looking for some gifts for my son, and this place had tons of soccer shirts. With help from the super-friendly shopkeeper, I did my best at guessing the right size and looked through the racks. I thought I had found a good shirt (AC Milano) when I saw something garishly yellow sticking out from the back of the rack. It was a Valentino Rossi jersey! My son is a huge Rossi fan, watching most of the races with me and rooting for Vale while I wear my Ducati Corse cap and root for Casey and Nicky. You could saw we are a house divided. 10Euro for the Rossi shirt, and my kid is going to love it!
The top of Mendelpass was quite developed
We saw a bunch of these Honda CB1000R's in Italy. Love the little exhaust on this one. Just behind it you can see the required BMW R1200GS.
The shopkeeper steered us to a short detour that leads to a panorama where you can see for miles and miles, but after 10 minutes heading up the rough pavement hairpins it was obvious it was going to be too cloudy to see anything. Back down we go.
At a gas stop a young woman came up to me while I was filling up. She was from Stuttgart, Germany, and was admiring my hi-viz jacket. She wanted to know where I got it, as she’d love to be able to find something like that in Germany. Finally! That’s why everyone stared at me and my jacket when we stopped – they were jealous! Actually, they probably figured I was a polizia or just got off work from refueling jets at the airport.
The road from Mendelpass to Passo Tonale was a nice ride through towns, orchards, olive groves and lakes, with lots of fun passing cars and trucks along the way. The weather was nice and warm with plenty of sunshine, and we were seeing a section of Italy that looked different than anything we’d seen before.
Apple trees, I think.
Very pretty lake
Not a bad place for a snack break
We stopped for lunch at the top of Passo Tonale, at a small café right across from the WWI monument, where I had a delicious hot speck and cheese sandwich. The waitress, for reasons I won’t post here, will not soon be forgotten.
Another very built-up pass
The ossuary and chapel contains the remains of 800 fallen from both sides during WWI
Our lunch stop
Next up was our 2nd-most anticipated pass of the day, the Dutch-recommended Passo Gavia. It started out innocently enough, looking much like any of the passes we'd already dealt with. Fairly wide hairpins, good road surface, and a moderate amount of traffic.
A rare Buell
Cool Caterham coming down Gavia
SuperDukes are soooo much fun
It was an uphill right-hander that I made my bonehead move of the day. I swung out to the left, as normal, swung my head to look backwards up the hill we were heading to, and started making my right. I noticed some bikes coming down, just about to start their turn. I hadn't done this on any of the previous 500 hairpins, but this time I target-fixated on the lead oncoming bike, and went wider and wider. I ended up stopping in the middle of the hairpin, more than halfway across the road, and motioned for the oncoming bikes to go inside me and around while I waited. Dumb, dumb, dumb.
The higher you got on Gavia, the crazier it became. Our friend Peter was not kidding with 'two way sometime no possible'. The road was very narrow, and clinging to the side of the mountain. The hairpins got tighter and tighter, and every corner held the possibility of an oncoming car taking the whole road. More than once I had to ride the inside fog line to make room for a descending car. As Jim said later, I'm so glad we were going up on this section, having to move over to the edge of the abyss for oncoming traffic would have been exponentially more terrifying.
As it was, Jim found it a bit too much for his liking. We paused at one point and I said I was going to try to get some pictures, and he just said "I'll meet you at the top", with a faraway look in his eyes. He flipped his visor down and took off, 100% of his concentration on the task at hand. I was finding the ride somewhere between thrilling and frightening, while I think his scale was a little more skewed towards the "why are we doing this?" end of things.
I think the pictures will tell the story nicely.
Fancy guard-rail system they have up here
Typical blind corner on Passo Gavia
Not too bad when this is coming your way...
...but much worse when this is.
My turn.
Not a lot of margin for error up here (looking back the way I came)
Again, looking back on Gavia. Glad we were coming up on the inside of the mountain
Hairpins are getting pretty tight. To take this picture I had my heels almost hovering over oblivion.
An avalanche shelter (looking back down again). The road surface is deteriorating.
Wow, that's a lot of snow
Have fun!
Gorgeous!
Looking back down Gavia, you can see how it's just carved into the mountainside
Super-tight hairpins, loose rocks and running water. Getting more interesting for sure.
The top was like riding into winter
And then, finally, I was at the top. Never had I ridden a road so incredible - so exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. This was the first pass I'd ridden that "I survived" was an appropriate feeling. Taken as a whole it seemed pretty overwhelming, but when you ride it you're breaking it down in bite-size chunks. Just this hairpin. Just get around this one blind turn. OK, let this car squeeze by. Slow right hairpin. Watch the gravel here. Before you know it, you're taking off your helmet with the biggest smile on your face.
Sure enough, Jim was waiting at the top when I took of my helmet with the biggest smile on my face. He conveyed that, while he enjoyed some of it, he would probably not ride that pass again. I think I would, but probably only in the same direction. If I ever find myself driving over here with my family, Gavia is one place they won't be seeing.
The rifugio at Passo Gavia
For a baby-boomer like me, this is porn.
A K1200LT?! I thought the RT was big!
Everyone stops for a bit to finally breathe again
These bicycle riders never cease to amaze me
We made it!
The descent going North was much more traditional. Wide enough for 2 vehicles in most places, it seemed like somewhat of a letdown after the climb up. The weather was starting to turn for the worse, with heavy dark clouds threatening rain. The wind had also picked up quite a bit. Before we knew it we were out of the pass and found ourselves in the midst of another construction deviatone. This time there was an arrow pointing to a detour that went up a seriously steep narrow road. I remember asking Jim over the headset before starting up if he was comfortable with this. He was, so we went. If either of had to stop on this hill I'm sure it would have ended badly, but we made it to the top....and immediately got lost. Junctions with no detour signs, dead ends every one we tried. Another group of riders came by who had just gotten detoured, and they were equally confused. The rain was just starting to come down as we all went down a 'private' road that looked good and got us past the construction.
Then the skies opened up. We found the first shelter we could, and tried to hide under the eaves of the building. Thunder, lightning, pouring rain. Great.
Another group of bikers, from Corinthia, joined us in a few minutes. The “leader”, or at least the guy with the most patches on his vest, nearly ran me over maneuvering to keep his Yamaha sidecar rig dry. They were speaking German, I’m pretty sure, and they were as unhappy with this sudden weather as we were. Trying to break the ice with them, I offered them some of my chocolate I had purchased at Passo Tonale. I got a ‘danke’ from one guy , but no other words were spoken, or even glances exchanged. OK...
So there we sat, just barely safe from the downpour, listening to the thunderclaps and watching the lightning. We were mere minutes away from the start of Passo Stelvio, the supposed crown jewel of the Alps, and of our trip, and it looked like we might not be able to ride it. How much do you risk just to say “I did it”. Rain? No problem, we can take it slow and still enjoy it. What about rain, thunder, and lightning? The top of a mountain is not the place to be with lightning in the air. I can’t believe we’re THIS close to Stelvio and it might not happen!
Passo Stelvio
Ofenpass
Fluelapass
Oberalppass
It only took about 15 or 20 minutes, but the rain stopped and the sun came out. In such a short time it went from “seek shelter!” to being a glorious warm sunny day. There’s a saying in Colorado from people who live near the Front Range – “Don’t like the weather? Wait 10 minutes.”.I love the mountains!
Mr. Friendly
More cobblestoned town streets
It was a short ride from the bottom of Gavia to Bormeo and the beginning of Passo Stelvio. We passed through another super-narrow town, and before we knew it we were making a right under a big sign saying “Passo dello Stelvio”. The little town at the entrance reminded me very much of Estes Park, CO and the signs for the entrance to Rocky Mountain National Park. Oh man, here we go.
Blame it on Gavia.
The ride up Stelvio was certainly nice, but it was not really all that different from several of the other passes we’d already ridden. Some of the hairpins were nearly zero-radius, but Gavia had had plenty of those as well. I certainly can’t knock the scenery; it was quite beautiful. What was very impressive was the scale of the thing – it seems from the bottom of it you can almost make out the whole system of hairpins you’ll be taking on the way up. That certainly can make it feel pretty daunting, and I don’t think I’d want it t be my first pass after picking up my rental bike, but it was no more challenging than several others (and much less so than Gavia). Going up, we kept waiting for the craziness to start – and it never really did.
Looking back on the southerly ascent of Stelvio
Now don’t get me wrong – it was spectacular, and we’re very glad we did it. The road surface for the most part was terrific, the views were amazing, and there were a lot of other bikes and cars enjoying it which adds to the whole experience of it.
There were a lot of classic open-top cars coming down, part of some Coupe touring group. The coolest thing I saw on the way up was a KTM X-Bow coming down. Wow! We had a moment of confusion partway up when the road splits, but we figured it out mainly by following where most everyone else was going. Probably the toughest part of the ascent were the unlit tight avalanche shelters/tunnels. Pavement was very rough in there, with lots of mud and rocks on the sides of the road.
That has to quite a thrilling ride coming down
Right-hand drive even!
Avalanche shelters were a bit scary to ride through
Typical busy corner
There's a lot of switchbacks in there
It didn’t seem to take too long to reach the top, and we were both thrilled upon parking the bikes up. Jim walked over as soon as I got my helmet off and we shook hands - we had made it.
This trip was nearly a year in the making, with many years of dreaming before that. I was filled with the feeling of accomplishment – here I was, in Europe, on a bike, having just ridden to the top of Passo Stelvio. I really could hardly believe it. What I was most impressed with, and I suspect this is true of many ‘lifelong ambitions’, is that I made it happen just by doing it. All it had really taken (besides some money, but less than you might think) was the decision to just DO IT. Years ago this kind of trip always felt like some kind of nearly-impossible maybe-someday fantasy. In reality, a few websites, some phone calls, and e-mails were all it took to get here. Plus, of course, the understanding and support of a fabulous wife and family.
We wandered through the gift shops looking for suitable souvineers (Anything! Everything!) and just taking it all in. There’s an awful lot of action going on at the top of Stelvio – gift shops, hotels, restaurants, food vendors, etc. The lady we bought some t-shirts from had said everyone had to take their merchandise inside earlier as the wind was very strong. It had died down, but it was still very cold.
The scene at the top of Passo Stelvio
Great location for a hot dog stand
Lots of trinkets to choose from
Neat building
A better view of it
To be honest, after Gavia and Stelvio, I would have been quite happy to just call it a day right there. When we had told our Dutch friends back in Arabba that we would be heading to Stelvio on this day, they asked where we were staying there. Now I understand why they asked. We had already had a good long day riding, and would have been happy to kick back and chill for the rest of the day. Unfortunately we still had over 200kms to go to get to Andermatt, and there were several passes to be conquered along the way.
We still needed to go down this other side
That's quite a road
A very happy Ken
A very happy Jim. We should have asked someone to take a picture of both of us. Don't you hate when you forget stuff like that?
Thanks to a nice STN member we now have that pic!
As we got back on the bikes it started to snow lightly. Oh, that will be nice for the descent. Jim asked me to confirm what he figured the flashing temp meant on his GS – it read 3.5 C. Yup, it’s warning us it’s cold enough for ice to form.
The ride down Stelvio (heading NE) was much trickier than the ride up. There are 48 hairpins (which is only 15 more than Pordoi) to contend with, and endless curves. There was also a lot of traffic, including a double-decker tourbus many of us got stuck behind for a section until he graciously pulled over. I can’t imagine how scary the ride has to be from the upper section of that bus. No surprise, I stopped for a lot of pictures along the way.
No sooner did we start down that this rainbow appeared. I'm not often looking down on rainbows from above.
Yes, it's been a good day so far
Goofy self-portrait
There were lots of fast riders coming down the pass. The confidence most (if not all) of these guys (and girls) ride with is really incredible. There was one moment I won’t soon forget. Coming downhill, I was approaching a zero-radius lefthander, with the outside of the hairpin leading to nothing but a several-hundred-foot fall to certain death. There’s a bike coming up behind me quickly. I start to brake for the hairpin, he flicks around me going maybe 15 or 20mph faster than I am. When he pulls in front of me he has maybe 10 yards before he has to commit to the turn. His brake light flashes for an instant, and he heels it all the way over and carves perfectly around the left and he’s gone. I got sweaty palms just watching him.
This is almost a perfect sequence of "how to ride an uphill right-hand hairpin". When no one's coming.
Jim's in the lead
That's a tight radius
All good things must come to an end, and 90 minutes from when we started Stelvio we were done. We’d spent 40 minutes at the top, so in the end we had spent less than one hour riding what is considered the best, or at least most famous, pass in the Alps. If we had no place to go I’m certain we’d have gone up and over it again.
Just some guys going up
Bella Vista indeed
By now it was 4:45 in the afternoon, we were still over 200kms from Andermatt. Onward we go.
I don’t have a lot of notes after Stelvio, probably because the next opportunity to jot things down was while we were having a liquid dinner in Andermatt.
The landscape changed quickly after Stelvio, really opening up. The land we were riding through was looking more and more like the Rockies in the US – broad smooth roads with wide shoulders, surrounded by mountains at a comfortable distance. In Italy the mountains seemed very close-in, you were always either going up, over or down some twisty pass that clung to the side of a cliff. Here we were riding through a broad flat valley admiring the scenery.
At some point we crossed the border, where we didn’t have to stop. Italy, and some of my best riding memories ever, was now behind us.
Looking back into Italy
We rode over Ofenpass which sported perfect pavement other than a few gravel construction sections. This was much more relaxed pass riding – wide hairpins, actual paved shoulders, even guardrails in some places.
Jim on Offenpass
The top of Offenpass, or Pass Dal Fuorn
Fluelapass was next, on the way to Davos. I’ve got nothing on that one – chalk it up to a too-long day in the saddle. There was a short run on the autostrada in there somewhere, after a mix-up at a baffling traffic circle. We stopped for gas and a break somewhere around Domat, I think, and we were beat. Another 2 hours to go, with a pass that we were excited about in the morning and now we’d rather just skip. A Coke and a chocolate bar gave me some short-term zing.
The view from Fluelapass
Nice wide sweepers, perfect pavament and zero traffic
The road down Fluelapass
"Man, I hope that's Andermatt down there"
Oberalppass was our last pass of the day, thankfully we still had daylight when we hit it around 9pm. By this time Jim was in “get home” mode, and really wasn’t enjoying the ride anymore. I was tired but still OK. It may have helped me that I had the GPS so I could keep track of our progress. Jim was relegated to asking at stops “how much longer?” – I guess the adult equivalent of “are we there yet?” In no way a knock on Jim, I had laid out much too long a day. We’d been riding almost 14 hours at this point, with some serious passes behind us.
The jury-rigged (and zip-tied and bubble-wrapped) power connection for the Zumo
Oberalppass was completely deserted. Again there was perfect Swiss pavement, wide hairpins and beautiful scenery. While these were great roads to ride, I was missing the Italian “wildness”. These roads were almost too perfect, too predictable.
The way we come up over Oberalppass. Light's fading quickly.
Top of Oberalppass
I bet sunset up here would be beautiful
There's a cog railway that goes from Andermatt to the top of Oberalppass
Here’s a good example of the difference between our dealings with Italians and the Swiss. In Italy, I had gotten a personal phone call from the Hotel Mesdi when we hadn’t arrived by 8pm, letting us know they were holding dinner for us. Earlier today Jim had called the Hotel Aurora to let them know we wouldn’t be there until 10pm or so. Their reply? “So you’re still coming? Why are you calling us?” Click.
I met Jim at the main roundabout in town as he had gone on ahead while I stopped for some pictures. It was a short ride (any ride through Andermatt is going to be short, it’s very tiny) to our hotel, right on the outskirts of town.
I bet these guys know each other
We had to go through the dining room to get to the front desk, and the place was thick with cigarette smoke. After a while someone met us at the registration desk, and checked us in. I guess I will be nice and use the word “efficiently”, instead of “grimly”. This was not a happy place. Asked if we would be dining there that night, we asked if other places in town would be open late – we had no interest in eating amongst the smoke. We were assured they would be.
Just finding our rooms was an adventure in itself. The 2nd floor hallway was pitch black, and we didn’t know how to turn on the lights. There were some push-button switches by some of the doors, but they looked too much like doorbells so we didn’t risk trying them and rousing some sleeping Germans. Eventually we made our way through the blackness and found what appeared to be our rooms, and then spent 5 minutes trying to get the 3-pound keys to work the locks. Once inside, it didn’t get much better. My room was very small, with a sink in the room and the smallest of bathrooms with just stall shower and toilet. Oh well, it’s only one night. Quickly got cleaned up and headed out to find some dinner in town.
Except you can’t get dinner after 10pm in Andermatt. Each place we walked into had stopped serving food.
“Hi, are you still open?”
“Yes, yes, come in.”
“Do you have food?”
“Oh no.”
“Ok, thanks”
And this would repeat at every restaurant/pub/hotel lounge we tried. I couldn’t help thinking in Italy they would have insisted we stay and they would have found some food for us, but no one here so much as offered us pretzels.
Eventually we gave up, and resigned ourselves to a beer dinner. We got a table in a bar, where a very nice barmaid kept our glasses full for an hour or so while I tried to make notes about the day’s riding.
If you’re enjoying reading this trip report, you’ll need to thank that barmaid. Jim and I staggered out into the street (3? 4? tall beers on an empty stomach and I was quite lit) and were making our way back to the hotel when I heard some yelling behind us. I turned to see the barmaid holding my journal over her head – I had left it at the table. THANK YOU!!! I would have been very distraught had I lost all my notes from the trip.
Tomorrow’s our last day of riding, and we’re going to make it count.
Map for the day
